Tears of the Fallen
by dark-Yuuki-sama
Summary: Matthew Kirkland, a genius who dropped out of high school in order to work to make money for his brother and sister's medical treatments, joins the U.S. army, and is mortally wounded causing him to reflect back on his life.


Disclaimer: I own nothing but the small spot in my head called my imagination

Warnings: Character death

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I'm dying. I can feel my life draining away with my traitorous blood fleeing my body from the bullet wounds. The searing hot ground sucking up my blood like a greedy baby, painting that aggravating sand a sick rose colour. It's funny, I always thought dying would be loud and painful, but it's quiet, too quiet; almost like the world's mute button has been pressed. The pain I always imagined wasn't there. I had felt the stabbing pain from the bullets, how many hit me again...six, seven, I don't even remember, when they forced their way into my chest and then nothing. It's sad really; the only thing I can feel is my blood running from my body. I can't feel the pain, the heat, or even the fear that accompanies death. I wonder is this how Dad died. Alone? The nothingness I feel is somewhat scary, to be completely alone, the only thing keeping you company are your memories.

How did I even get to the god-forsaken place?

This is definitely not, what I wanted, so how did I end up here, dying in the dry, deserted desert of the Helmand Province in Afghanistan? What did I do to deserve this, being caught in the middle of a civil war that really has nothing to do with me? How the hell did I get involved in this mess? Better question is how the hell do I get out?

Looking up to the sky, I notice it's getting darker. No wait, that's not the sky, how stupid, it's my vision. Everything is starting to go black; I'm not scared though. I know I'll find all the answer when I close my eyes. It's dark in my mind; I guess I was proven wrong again. I always thought that it would be I don't know busy with all my memories and thoughts, but it's dark and quiet.

There's nothing here, nothing but a letter...What's a letter doing here, of all places? A letter...why does this look so familiar? I remember now, everything started with that bloody letter that arrived ten years ago. I remember, Peter, the youngest of our family, had just been born a couple months ago and Alfred, my ever-rambunctious younger twin brother, and I had been playing in the snow with our baby sister Angelique; she was such a small thing then. Mother had been watching us from the window when Father returned with a strange look on his face and that blasted letter in his hands. Everything changed after that day. That's when the descent began and when my happy dreams began to shatter, laughing as they fell. Their mocking tone slicing me in the process.

I had watched with sad eyes as we left our home with the luscious snow covered forests and beautiful, ice-cold lakes of Vancouver disappearing into the distance. Depression hit me as we continued to move closer to the border and even though Father had said that we would be returning as soon as Grandmother was healthy again, I knew better. Apparently, Grandmother had sent that evil piece of paper and I knew that I was never going to see the secret creeks, the lush greens of the forest or even those strange poles Mother had called Totems, of my beautiful home ever again.

I let a dry, strangled laugh escape my lips. So, that's how it all started. That's the exact moment my life had taken a turn for the worse. Suddenly another object caught my eye while I scanned the darkness, is that a pendant? It's familiar, and suddenly I cannot help but grasp it in my hand, and feel its warm and... Slippery surface? Looking down at the offending object in my hand, I found that the azure blue gem I had been so familiar with turning a disturbing purplish red. I remember this pendant now, it had belonged to Father, and he had been wearing it that day, the day of the accident.

The air in the city was nothing like back home; the fresh, crisp air I had grown up with had been replaced by heavy, noxious smelling smog that burned my throat and caused a constant stinging in my eyes. This poisonous air is probably why grandmother had been so sick, but how could anyone be healthy in Harlem, New York? It's dirty, and noisy with all those tall building that reminded me of the mountains back home, and those loud, constantly honking cars that never seemed to stop making noise. Why did Grandmother live in a place where loud banging sounds filled the night?

It was scary, so scary that I wished and wished on every star I could find, begging them that we would not have to stay long in this place. The place that caused so much fear in my younger twin that he could only sleep while wrapped in my arms. It was horrible, and nothing I did ever seem to help. Mother and Father were still so busy; Alfred was still scared, and Grandmother was getting worse and I felt useless. Come to think of it that wasn't the only time I had felt useless. I had felt that way during the accident hadn't I?

I had been there, I could have told him. I could have saved them! So why, why did I just sit there? Why did I just watch as Father and Grandmother were ripped from me? From us, from our family all because I had been useless. When they had been struck, why didn't I scream? Why didn't I yell for help? Was it because Father had always gotten up after falling with a smile on his face? I didn't know, in fact I still don't know why I just sat there.

Mother had said that it had been shock that stopped me. That I had experienced what any nine year old would have experienced if they had witnessed the death of their Father and Grandmother. She had said that it wasn't my fault. That I couldn't have done anything, but I know better. It's my fault we are poor, having to spend everything on the two funerals. My fault that Peter and Angelique had to grow up without a father and my fault mother cried herself to sleep every night. I swore that I would make it better, that I would make everything right. It's my responsibility and I will give up anything and everything just to see a smile grace my Mother's face once more.

I remember now, that's the reason I'm here, how could I ever forget that I joined this stupid war because of my promise, my promise to make everything right. It was my fault we got stuck living in Harlem for these past ten years. Mother hadn't been allowed back to our home in Vancouver, because she was an American citizen while Father had been Canadian. Mother hadn't finished applying for her citizenship before we left and she was rejected because Father had died. It's my fault; I caused her to lose her home, so I worked as hard as possible in school and multiple jobs in an attempt to relieve some of her struggles.

I swore that I would get my family out of this place, out of this hell where dodging stray bullets is a way to pass the time. However, I never imagined this would happen. I never thought that Alfred, my naive younger twin brother who was so full of life, would fall victim to this. It just cannot be happening, just as I finished putting the pieces of my shattered dreams back in place, they are smashed once more.

Three years ago, Alfred had been diagnosed with Acute Leukemia, and all our savings had gone towards his medical treatments, but there was never enough. Never enough money to pay for Alfred's treatments, to pay for our schooling, not even enough money to pay for food for our family to eat. I had to do it I had no other choice. To save my little brother's life I would do anything, even give up want I wanted most in order to help him.

I thought it would be easy, I had made up my mind, and I knew it was the only way, but dropping out of high school was the hardest thing I have ever done. Even surviving in that waterless, never-ending span of heat and sand known as the deserts of the Helmand Province was nothing compared to the pain I felt from leaving school. I watched as all my hard work burned to ash, joining the pieces of my shattered dreams beneath my feet.

Even after leaving school it seemed that no matter how hard I worked I could never make enough money for Alfred's treatment, in fact I don't even make enough for anything anymore. Angelique's health began to steadily decline, Mother had believed it's Tuberculosis, and I didn't know what to do. I couldn't lose my baby sister and my twin brother, I just couldn't. Once again, I felt useless. I can't help my mother, my brothers, or my sister. I work four jobs and it's still not enough, I'm at my rope's end and there's nothing I could do.

At least that's what I had thought until two representatives from the U.S. Military approached me one day. I knew that meeting would spell disaster; I knew I should have stayed away, but I had no other option. They promised that they would cover my sibling's medical expenses, and offered so many other benefits; I couldn't decline the offer. I knew Mother would be furious, but I swore that I would give up everything for my family and nothing and no one would get in my way.

Looking back now, I see that I was too reckless and careless in my decision, but the military, then and now, is still the only option. I know Mother is still angry, and that out of angry Alfred still refuses to respond to my letters, but he and Angelique are healthy now and Mother isn't as stressed anymore about money. My paychecks take care of that problem. I released a dry chuckle, it's funny while looking back on how I ended here, half buried in sand with my blood painting the ground red, that I didn't notice that dreadful burning spreading throughout my body. I guess I really am dying. It's not so bad I guess I just wish that I could see my family once more but I guess that's too much to ask for.

"You better come back home in one piece Mattie, promise me that."

What was...Oh the promise I made with Al before I left. "He he, I'm sorry Alfred but it looks like I won't be able to keep my promise to you," I chuckled as I closed my eyes for what I knew would be the last time.

A sudden crash woke the young man sitting in bed from his subconscious state. His short straight blond hair, an opposite of his brother's long wavy locks, covered the man's normally bright blue eyes now dulled with tears. Looking out the window at the light blue sky the young blonde-haired man whispered as tears slid down his pale face.

"It's not fair. You promised to come home Mattie, you promised."


End file.
